Juliette Ruth joined our family this past weekend. And here I sit before you, a few days after, thankful to bring you her beautiful story. Just days before her arrival, friends of ours lost their newborn. My heart wept for them, even throughout my birth, knowing how empty my arms and womb would feel after
I am 97 weeks pregnant. Yes, you read that right. It’s officially the longest pregnancy in the history of the entire world. Alright… alright… I shouldn’t be complaining. I know plenty of women who have gone waaaay over their due date and we’re not there (yet), but even still, any woman who has been pregnant
Slow down, Shaye. Just slow the heck down. Breathe, Mama, just breath. In. Out. Breeeeeeeeeeeathe. Last week, I took my own advice, and followed through with deep, satisfying breaths. I happened to be out with my animals when I began encouraging myself. It’d be a hectic morning, after a hectic trip to Montana, and we’d
Oh, hello world. You’re still there. Happy to see it! What I know of the world has been consumed by a variety of heaviness these past few weeks: the stress of relocating the animals, the children, the moving of 1,391 pounds of canned goods we had stored away for winter. The heaviness of the most
I decided to crash amongst the chaos, submit to the never ending piles of boxes and trash, and reminisce. I need time to take a deep breath, to really see my surroundings, to really interact with all that encompasses this farm. Because we’ve only got a week left. And then it’s… Goodbye Farm. Sunnier Days
Hello. Can you hear me? Or is my voice muffled through the foot and a half of fresh, powdery snow that is currently covering the homestead? I hope you can hear me. Because I’ve got some things to say, yo. After all – it’s almost Christmas! Time for love and mushy stuff and reflection and
Sometimes the Lord chooses to answer our desperate cries quickly! Man, oh man, did this happen fast! In the context of The Elliott Homestead, this is huge news! And great news. Ya’ll. We bought a farm. Do you like how before I drop a bomb I always say ‘y’all’? I blame it on my Southern husband.
My little sister has seen me at my very worst, because, well… I tend to show up at her doorstep at my very worst. Like a few weeks ago when I showed up with disgusting children, mascara tears streaming down my face, and begged her for a wee bit of shampoo so that I could
Remember that time you were pregnant, for your fourth time, and you felt pretty tuckered? And remember when it only took 14? 15? 16? (how many weeks am I again? does anyone even count the 4th time?) to grow out of your brand new wardrobe that you finally splurged on after weaning the last baby?
I threw my hands and words up to heaven like a maniac. Lord, you don’t know what it’s like! Your son was obedient! You told him to go die on a cross and he listened. I’m asking mine to stop wiping poop on the walls and he can’t even manage that! I felt stupid as soon as